A Lestrange by any Other Name
by RandomCherry41
Summary: We let last names define who we are. Let me, a honest to goodness Lestrange, tell you my side of the story.//WARNING. DH spoilers, my first story so reveiw, if you will. Rated for later chapters.


Heritage.

There are two kinds of people in the world, those who shun their pasts, and those who embrace it. The former are always apologizing, carrying on feuds started by parents, and acting like it's the biggest deal in the world. Then, there are the other. Us who realize what's done is done. We cannot change who we are, or who are parents were, so why be biased on it? Judge those who we've met, not by their family, but by they, themselves.

I am the latter.

My name is Avery Bellatrix Phoenix Narcissa Lestrange. Call me Avery. Yes, I'm Bellatrix's daughter. And yes, I know what she did. I'm not going to insist she had things all right- not by a long shot- but don't expect me to disavow my family. Maybe I should tell you a little bit about myself first.

First of all, let me set down one guideline. People have called me dark and cynical before. Dark? Not quite right. I may be sarcastic and cold at time. I grant that. But don't pity me. I don't need it. Don't blame it on my upbringing. I've had people say "Oh, poor child, daughter of Bellatrix, no doubt learned to be cruel in the home." I was actually an average five year old then. I had a family, I had a home, no I didn't learn Dark Arts. Anyway, what I want to say is this; You may want to blame it on mom, dad, The Dark Lord, anyone 'bad'. But the simple truth is, you did this. Every time you treated me differently because of my last name, you made me more like I am. I'm not trying to shift blame to anyone, all I'm saying, is it's not my family. Leave them alone.

I get asked questions a lot. Of course, the number one asked is always "Do you remember Bellatrix?" For some reason, everyone's mind switches to her first, and not Rudolphus. The answer is yes, but I didn't know the evil, scary Bellatrix the press leads you to believe. I knew the nice, mommy Bella. Only I and Darrimond can call her that. What? Darrimond? He's my brother, older by two years. Like I said, Bella didn't come home ranting and raving about half-bloods and dirty bloodlines. She was nice to us. She fed us, tucked us in, read us stories, what else can a five year old want? Dad was wonderful too.

Next question: What was it like living with killers?

Response: What was it like growing up when you were little? Stupid question. Next.

Ah, here's one. What happened on the night of the Battle at Hogwarts?

There's a story.

It started a few months from then. Darrimond and I, young as we were, noticed something going on. Mom was happier, then tenser; dad would be gone for long periods of time. That was always how they operated. If one of them or Aunt Narcissa couldn't be home, then we would be alone for awhile, but the max before that was two days. It wasn't like we were abandoned; we had food for those times, usually microwavable things. They always felt bad about leaving us, and when they got home, they would bring us some lovely present. Maybe a box of crayons for me and a small toy car for Darrimond.

Anyway, that night, we didn't know what was going to happen. Mom and Dad told us they were going, they loved us, goodbye. I looked up from my coloring long enough to wave goodbye.

That night, we brushed out teeth, changed into pajamas and went to bed, as always.

A week later, Darrimond acted like he wasn't scared, but I could tell he was worried at least.

Another week passed and our food was getting low. I remember being scared that we might never see mom and dad again.

At two weeks and a half, Aurors blasted the door open. It was noon, and Darrimond had been reading to me. We both screamed. They began asking us tons of questions, like "Where were our parents?" And "Did Lestrange kidnap you?" I eventually ended up huddled against my brother, crying for all I was worth. Darrimond brought himself up to his full seven year old height and told the people with a bit of a lisp to go away or he'd beat them up. At that point, the Aurors chuckled, and that was sufficient to throw me into a rage. I flew at the nearest one, kicking him and hitting him with small ineffective fists. I doubt he felt anything at all. One of them gently tried to hug me, and that was when I completely broke down. I wasn't sad. Mostly, I was scared by these big people. In my little mind I think I made a connection between these scary people and mom not coming home. Darrimond comforted me as the people asked him questions.

The rest is pretty boring, I know people hate not to be entertained, so I'll give a summary. For two months we lived with an auror. It was shortly after the battle and people were apprehensive of taking in a Lestrange, at that point, I don't blame them. After that period of time, we found a muggle aunt on our dad's side. They're pretty nice to us, and I've got a few friends on the neighborhood. They know about Bella, and they're cool with it, I even have a few cousins. But I'll always feel closer to Darrimond then I do to Ellie, Anne, Casper, Ryan, or Beth, I can tell you that.

Geez, where to go next? I suppose I'll cover my disastrous friendship with Kila Longbottom.

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_**What do you guys think? Please read and review. Thanks! **__** It's my first story, so give me a bit of leeway here.**_


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